“Safer?” Dalton suggested.
“Yeah, a little bit safer, but I never quite feel safe. Not really. Thunderstorms make me insane. The first Fourth of July I was home, I took tranquilizers so I’d sleep through it, but I had nightmares the whole night and couldn’t get myself to wake up because of the pills. During the day, I always have this heavy feeling, like something really bad is about to happen, and I can’t stop it.”
“It sounds horrible.”
“It is.” Matt took a long pull from the water. He screwed the cap back onto the bottle. “Really horrible. One time, right after I got home, I went to a strip mall by myself. I was happy because it went pretty well. I bought the thing I came for, some Tylenol PM at Walgreens, and I talked to the cashier like normal and everything. I was heading out to the parking lot when a car engine started up, real loud like it had a bad muffler, and I just froze. I was back there, like, literally back there.” Dalton knew back there meant Afghanistan. “I was between two cars, and I dropped down and took cover and couldn’t move. Could not move an inch. My heart was pounding so loud, I could feel it in my ears, and I could taste dust. I had to call a friend to come pick me up. I couldn’t function for days.”
“I’ve heard,” Dalton said carefully, “that there are effective therapies for PTSD now.”
“That’s what they say.”
“You don’t believe it?”
He shook his head. “Maybe it works for some. I don’t know.”
“Why not try it?”
Matt gave him a look like he was out of his mind. “It’s not that I don’t want to get better. It just takes so much to get there.” He waved his hand out toward the street.
“To get where?”
“The place where I’d have to go for this so-called magic therapy. I don’t even know where I’d start. The VA, I guess, but before I can get help, I’d have to make phone calls and fill out paperwork and talk to people and get appointments and then find a way to get to the appointments. There are all these steps, and if you even mess up once, you have to start over.”
As he spoke, the truth of it sank in for Dalton. When just going about your day was exhausting, there wasn’t much left over for anything else. He said, “And it’s all too much?”
Matt nodded. “Too much. I’ve already said more to you than I’ve told anyone besides Ellie, and I feel like I’ve been wrung out. Arranging to get treatment would take more out of me than I can do. It would be like asking a paralyzed man to climb Mount Everest.”
“They should make it easier to get into a program.”
His mouth twitched, as if to say, what can you do? “There are more than a hundred thousand homeless veterans. They’re probably doing the best they can.”
And that was it. Matt wasn’t looking for anyone else to solve his problem. He wasn’t blaming the military for his current circumstances. He was just trying to get through life, miserable and alone. And there were more than a hundred thousand out there just like him. The idea was mind blowing.
They talked for another hour or so, with Dalton doing most of the asking. He wanted to know how Matt got to this point. Didn’t he have family and friends? Someone had to have a couch he could crash on, right? Anything would be better than living on the streets, begging for change. Matt haltingly answered his questions. His family was a total mess, he said, citing alcoholism and abuse as the reasons he enlisted in the first place. His sister was okay, but she was married and had little kids, so she couldn’t help. And his friends? Well, they’d helped at the start, when he first returned, but eventually, they grew impatient with him. “They wanted the old Matt,” he said. “I think I scared them, the way I freaked out, not being able to handle even the smallest things. I would snap sometimes when things weren’t going my way.” He stared ahead as if remembering. “I could feel that I was out of control, but I couldn’t stop it. Once, I had a meltdown at a party, and I could see their eyes just looking . . . It’s too much for most people to handle. My problems are too big.” He blinked and looked down.
“So there’s no one you can turn to? There must be people who miss you.”
He didn’t say anything for the longest time, just stared ahead like he was in a trance. Finally, the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. “There was this one girl.”
Ah, there was always a girl. “Yes?”
“She’s really special.” He leaned to one side and pulled a wallet out of his back pocket, then carefully took out a photo and handed it to Dalton. “Careful. This photo got me through some hard times.”
The photo was of a dark-haired woman, her head tilted up to the camera, an amused smile on her face. “She’s beautiful,” Dalton said. He turned it over and saw the name Ellie Fronk written on the back.
“Yeah. She was the greatest. Is the greatest,” Matt said, correcting himself.
“You’re in love with her.” Without even thinking, Dalton blurted out the words. From the look on Matt’s face, he’d gotten it right. Dalton gave him back the photo, and Matt tucked it carefully into his wallet.
“Yep.” His smile faded. “She waited for me and everything, but when I got back, I wasn’t the same. She tried to understand—I’ll give her that—but there’s no fixing me. She deserves better. I can tell you that much.”
“So what happened? She broke up with you?”
“No, nothing like that. Ellie tried so hard to help me, but I was a total mess and wasn’t getting better. One day she came home with tickets to a Broadway show she got from someone at work, and she was all excited about us going. I tried not to show her what a wreck I was. I even got most of the way through the play, but I had a panic attack during this one part, and I had to get out of there. I told her I was going to the bathroom and just bolted right out of the theater, and I’ve been out here on the streets ever since. A million times I’ve thought of letting her know what happened, but I just can’t.”
“How come?”
“Too ashamed, I guess. She’s better off without me. Ellie deserves better.”
“When did this happen?”
“A few months ago. I saw her once, right here in Manhattan, walking with her sister. I followed them for a little bit, but I didn’t have the nerve to talk to them.”
“You could still call her.”
He shook his head. “No. What would I say? I mean, I just left. Who does that? I don’t even understand it myself.”
Dalton tried to be empathetic, but it was difficult. It was noble of Matt to want to shield his girlfriend from his troubles, and yet with her, he had a chance. What good could possibly happen out here on the streets? They sat in complete silence for a long time after that. Lots of people walked past, but only a few gave money. Matt was happy for every dime. Panhandling took a lot more effort than Dalton had realized. When the sun started to go down, Matt struggled to his feet. “Time to find a place for the night. Take care, Dalton.”
“Wait a minute.” He rose from the pavement. “I’m new to all this. Do you have any tips on where to go to sleep?”
“Nope,” he said, walking away. “I fly solo. You’re on your own.”
Dalton watched him heading determinedly down Eighth Avenue, pulling his two-wheeled cart behind him. During their talk, he’d mentioned a general distrust of homeless shelters, saying you had to be careful. Not all of them were clean, and sometimes other people stole your stuff. He’d gone only a few times, when the weather was extreme. Matt was also worried about social workers. They meant well, but one he’d encountered had been pushy about wanting to get him into some kind of group home. Dalton wasn’t sure what that was all about, but Matt was sure the woman got some kind of bonus for recruiting veterans. “No one’s getting rich on my problems,” he said, which struck Dalton as kind of paranoid, but really, what did he know? He was a guy from Connecticut, and he was here to learn.
So Dalton doubted Matt was heading to a shelter. Where else do the homeless sleep in a big city like this? he wondered. The subway? A back
alley behind a dumpster? He was curious. As Matt grew smaller and smaller off in the distance, Dalton made a sudden decision. He was going to follow him.
CHAPTER FIVE
Greta stepped off the elevator, taking a deep breath to calm the nervous butterflies inside. She wanted to present herself as calm, cool, and professional. She had landed a dream job and wanted to make a good first impression.
Just ahead was an entry area with a gold embossed door that presumably led into the Vanderhaven apartment. The ceilings above, she noticed, were tall and edged with ornate crown molding. Next to the door, a vase of flowers sat on a white table trimmed in gold. An oval gilded mirror hung above it. Stalling for time because she was nervous, she went to give the flowers a quick sniff.
When she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she checked her teeth, then got out a comb to smooth some flyaway strands. She was still fussing with her hair when she heard a whirring noise. She looked up to see a camera swing her way, stopping when it was pointing at her face.
Greta tucked her comb back into her bag and went straight to the door. Before she could knock, it swung open. She’d been hoping it would be Cece and her two best friends, but having Deborah Vanderhaven greet her was a pretty close second. She looked as fabulous in person as she did in photos. Today she wore a periwinkle-blue skirt and matching blazer over a white blouse with short little boots that Greta didn’t think were an obvious choice, but the combination totally worked. Her style was big city, but her greeting was from one Wisconsin relative to another.
“Greta!” she exclaimed, ushering her into their home. “Greta Hansen! I’m so happy you’re here.”
She gave Greta a big hug, enveloping her in a scent that Greta knew as her signature fragrance. Greta’s mother had once gotten a sample vial at an upscale department store on a trip to Chicago and said it was heaven for the nose. Cece’s perfume, Let Me In, they had decided, was not as good. Close, but not quite.
When she pulled back, Greta said, “I’m really excited to be here. I can’t thank you enough for setting up the internship and letting me stay with you.”
“Of course!” she said. “We’re delighted you could join us.” She slipped an arm around Greta’s shoulders and walked out of the foyer and into a sitting area. Greta looked back at her suitcase, sitting forlornly on the Oriental rug.
Seeing her glance, Mrs. Vanderhaven said, “Just the one bag?” as if it weren’t quite enough.
“It’s a big suitcase. I was able to fit a lot in.” She’d debated bringing two pieces of luggage but decided against it, thinking she’d be buying new clothes in New York.
She nodded. “Just leave your suitcase there for now. I’m eager to talk to you.”
“Of course, Mrs. Vanderhaven.”
“No, no!” She laughed and waved her hand. “Please. Call me Deborah.”
Greta took a seat on a tall upholstered chair and made a mental note of everything she saw in the room, memorizing details for her late-night phone call to Jacey. Her mom, too, would want to hear everything. Staring across the room at Deborah Vanderhaven, Greta was reminded of a modern-day Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. Classic elegance. Not anything like her mom, who sometimes went grocery shopping after gardening, not realizing her T-shirt was streaked with dirt.
Deborah sat opposite her, crossed her legs at the ankles, and began. “I know I’ve already told you this, but your email couldn’t have come at a better time. I am overjoyed that you are going to be staying with us.”
“Thank you. I’m happy to be here.”
Deborah was silent, as if weighing her next thoughts. After a moment, she said, “I know I can trust you to use the utmost discretion, but I want to make sure you know, right from the start, that you are not to share anything that goes on in this household with anyone. No photos, no stories, no details about our lives. I am particularly talking about anything to do with Cece or Brenna.”
“Of course. I never would,” Greta said, readily agreeing even as her heart sank. This changed everything. So much for sharing details with Jacey. She’d promised her a play-by-play of the whole exciting summer, especially her first meeting with Cece and friends, but now she’d have to keep it more general.
“All of that will be covered in the nondisclosure agreement in your contract, but you won’t be seeing that until tomorrow, and I wanted to tell you first thing.”
“I didn’t know there’d be a contract.” Were there always contracts when interning for companies? She suddenly realized she didn’t know much about what she was getting herself into.
Deborah smiled. “Nothing to worry about. Just a formality. You understand.” She sighed as if burdened. “The attorneys who safeguard us are very thorough. It’s a mixed blessing. I just wanted to tell you myself so you don’t feel ambushed tomorrow. I’ll be at the airport by then, and I won’t be around to answer any questions you might have.”
“You’re going on a trip?”
Deborah brightened. “Oh, yes. We always go to Paris for a few weeks over the summer. Business mixed with pleasure,” she said. “It’s our tradition. We’ve done it for ages now.”
Now that Deborah mentioned it, Greta did remember seeing a lot of pictures of Mr. and Mrs. Vanderhaven in Europe during the summertime. But she didn’t know they went every year. For a few weeks? That seemed like a long time. “Do the girls go too?”
“Oh, no, just me and Harry. Brenna would be dreadfully bored, and Cece has her own things to attend to.”
As if on cue, Brenna bounded into the room wearing pajamas, a stuffed monkey clutched under her arm. She went straight for her mother, who held out her arms to pull her into a hug. “Come here, my baby.” Deborah gave her a kiss and then scooted over in her seat to make room for Brenna to sit next to her.
“Nanny said to come say good night,” Brenna said and, suddenly realizing Greta was in the room, gave her cousin a shy sideways glance. She was a cute little girl with chestnut-brown hair and big dark eyes.
“You’re just in time to meet your cousin Greta. She flew in from Wisconsin to spend the summer with us. You remember me telling you she’d be coming here to stay with us?”
Brenna nodded.
“Go ahead, you don’t need to be afraid. Say hello.”
“Hello, Greta.” Her voice was whispery and sweet.
“Hi, Brenna. I’m glad to meet you. I hope we get a chance to spend some time together.”
She smiled. “Okay.”
“Now off you go,” her mother said, giving her a boost off the seat and planting one last kiss on her cheek. “Daddy and I are leaving very early in the morning, so we won’t see you before we go, but if you’re good and don’t cry, Nanny will give you a present at lunchtime.”
Brenna’s face crumpled. “But I don’t want you to go away.”
“We’ve been over this before.” Deborah’s tone was firm. “I know you don’t like it when we’re gone, but this trip is very important for Daddy’s business. It’ll just be for a little bit, and Nanny will be with you the entire time.” She cupped Brenna’s chin. “Be a brave girl for Mommy, and I’ll be back before you know it.” She whispered something in her daughter’s ear, and Brenna slowly nodded. “Okay, then. Off you go.”
Brenna trudged out of the room, pausing at the doorway to give a little wave. “Good night, Greta.”
“Good night, Brenna.”
“My Velcro child. She has a bit of separation anxiety,” Deborah said with a sigh. “Now where were we?”
“You were going to tell me about my internship?”
“Oh, yes! As you may know, the Vanderhaven Corporation is the parent company of many, many other companies and divisions. There were any number of positions we could have given you, but after several meetings and much discussion, we’ve decided that you will serve as an intern with Cece’s own company.”
“I’ll be interning at Firstborn Daughter, Inc.?” Whoa. It was like the universe had heard her deepest secret wish and granted it. It seemed too good
to be true. “For the whole summer?”
“Every minute that you’re here. I think you’ll find it to be fun but a definite challenge.” She raised her eyebrows questioningly. “What do you think?”
“I’m thrilled,” Greta assured her. “And willing to do whatever needs to be done.”
Deborah smiled. “I have no doubt of that, Greta. You are your mother’s daughter, after all.”
“What exactly will I be doing? When do I start? Where is the office?” Greta couldn’t help herself; the questions just poured out one after another.
Deborah held up a hand. “Your duties will be determined by Katrina and Vance and will vary from day to day. The main objective is to keep Cece’s image polished to a fine sheen. Firstborn Daughter, Inc. is an extension of Cece herself. The fragrance, the clothing, the cosmetics—all of it has become such a great source of revenue because the young women who buy the products want to be like Cece. Anything that takes away from her image will be devastating to the brand.”
“I see.” Greta cocked her head to one side. “So what exactly will I be doing?”
“Protecting the brand as if your life depended on it,” she said, as if that explained things.
“So I’ll be helping with . . . ?”
Deborah tented her fingers together thoughtfully. “I don’t have time to get into the particulars. Katrina and Vance will brief you first thing tomorrow. Until then, you are not to talk to anyone about our family or our apartment. Absolutely no photos. If photos are leaked to the media and we trace them back to you, it will be very bad.” She frowned. “We don’t want to take legal action against a relative, but you know how attorneys are. I’d hate to see it come to that.”
Greta had never had any encounters with attorneys, but she got the general idea. “No photos. Got it.”
“The household staff will have off while we’re gone, but Nanny will be here, and a cleaning crew will come twice a week. Groceries will be delivered and laundry picked up every third day and delivered the next. And Michael will be available to drive. Katrina knows how to reach him. The binder in your bedroom will give you all the details.”
Good Man, Dalton Page 4
